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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476970" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>These Words Turn Homeward</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">These words turn homeward <br>toward you, my dark wood, <br>because of all assignations of the night<br>you are West, you are dream and secret<br>you, deeper than jewels, sweeter <br>than the taste of stars <br>in the eyes of wounded black berries.<br>You, longing and lucidity, <br>singing in the last of the shadows <br>of the sacred trees for the unattainable <br>that summons me to you. <br>Endless, the farewell, endless <br>the dusk the nightbirds follow <br>after the swallows <br>have danced for the stars <br>in an aerial display of their own.<br>You, my star field, my wildflower, <br>whose skin is the skin of lunar waterlilies <br>and the tide at the tips of my fingers. <br>My new moon, my despair, <br>my solitude, my silence, my absence<br>which among these thousand lonely lakes <br>has looked upon you and seen <br>as I have seen in your incomprehensible eyes <br>how unfathomable they are to themselves <br>in your depths, your death, <br>the fullness of your abiding evanescence.<br>the quiet intimacies <br>that have just crept up on me<br>over these intervening years <br>that have done nothing <br>but linger in the moment<br>as if you would always be there<br>and could be found nowhere else<br>but now forever in this doorway<br>this broken window into my heart<br>to let go of <br>over and over and over again <br>like the rain, this stone, that leaf, <br>the wraith of your breath <br>hovering like a thin autumn mist<br>always at a distance over the harvested fields.<br>O diminished one, subtle one, free, <br>how is it you can inspire me still <br>though your ashes were given back to the stars <br>like a message for their eyes only <br>so many years ago that time itself<br>has upgraded all my starmaps <br>and made you alone, far one, bright one, <br>this lonely holy road that’s walking me home<br>as if my final destination, like yours, like you <br>were everywhere in whatever direction I turn <br>to ask the next star, where you’ve gone, <br>has it seen you, has it heard <br>was it too soon, was it too early <br>is it too late, too perilous, too absurd <br>for the morning to return you<br>like a singing bird to a green bough<br>to the dead branch that lost the moon <br>like its only blossom <br>on the rootless tree <br>that it took you from <br>when it took you from me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476970" data-title="These Words Turn Homeward de Patrick White" data-description="These words turn homeward 
toward you, my dark wood, 
because of all assignations of the night
you are West, you are dream and secret
you, deeper than jewels, sweeter 
than the taste of stars 
in the eyes of wounded black berries.
You, longing and..."></div>
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